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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604676">jukebox money</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melforbes/pseuds/melforbes'>melforbes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Farscape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s04e13 Terra Firma, F/M, hello new fandom i happen to be awful at titles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:14:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melforbes/pseuds/melforbes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes her up without a destination in mind. Set mid 4x13</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Crichton/Aeryn Sun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>jukebox money</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello, new fandom! here i am, trying to make a decent first impression!! haha!!! i hope im not stepping on fanon toes, i hope i haven't broken unspoken rules, etc. i watched all of farscape in like 17 days and soon i think my brain will start dripping out my nose. i haven't gotten their voices right yet, bear with me. ignores scorpius because why not</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He rested his chin on the edge of her mattress. This huge, ridiculous house by the beach had a room for each of them, and for some reason, Aeryn had taken the smallest, likely meant for children, two twin beds pressed up against the wall, the one opposite of him covered in her clothes. Though Rygel’s lights had still been on as John walked through the dark hallway, Aeryn’s had not, and he hadn’t come by for her. No, he’d driven up and made sure that the officers on the protective detail had fallen asleep in their car, then had used his key to get inside, seeking out Noranti. One in the morning, and he’d dreamt of Aeryn, and when he woke, he reached for the drug on his bedside table, but he didn’t have any more, so he lay back and stared at his ceiling, both familiar and unfamiliar, and saw flashes of her. Aeryn holding his hand, Aeryn kissing him for the first time, Aeryn saving him in the snow, and his chest felt warm and hot, and this was a heart attack, right? Chest tightness, shortness of breath. He was going to die. Whatever was in that drug, he was going through withdrawals, and he needed to find Noranti, so he drove all the way to this ridiculous house to get his fix. And Noranti’s lights had been on too. He wasn’t sure she ever slept. But he hadn’t gone into Noranti’s room; no, he now hovered at Aeryn’s bedside, and she slept with her brows furrowed, as if even at rest she felt nervous and uncomfortable here.</p><p><em>Next best thing,</em> he thought, then reached out and touched her shoulder, nudged her awake.</p>
<hr/><p>A laminated menu in his hands, paper napkins wrapped around silverware, the waitress set down two chipped ceramic mugs for them and asked if they would each like coffee. Yes, they would love coffee - across from him in the blue vinyl booth, Aeryn looked on with concern, but he really thought she would enjoy coffee - and they needed some more time with the menu, was that alright? Of course that was alright, the diner was open twenty-four hours, and while John and Aeryn sat in one corner of the place, tucked next to the old-fashioned jukebox, a group of drunk college students crowded around a table at the opposite end, and plenty sat on barstools. They weren’t the only ones with this idea.</p><p>Full cups of coffee, a bowl of single-use creamers on the table, he picked up a half-and-half and shook it for emphasis while she watched, then peeled back the top, poured the milk into his mug. She followed suit, even shaking the creamer first, and when he took his first sip, she mirrored him, then stared down at the cup, eyes wide.</p><p>“This is good,” she said, then took another sip, cowering away a little. She was going to burn her mouth. “This is really good.”</p><p>He quirked a lip, said, “Thought you might like that.”</p><p>“No, this is actually good,” she said, setting her mug down and wrapping her hands around the ceramic. He liked that feeling too. “All of the food here is too sweet, but this is good.”</p><p>“Guess we’re not getting milkshakes, then.”</p><p>Picking up the coffee mug again, she took slow, tentative sips, trying not to burn her tongue, and her hair kept falling in front of her face. She hadn’t bothered brushing it or putting it back, and he found himself unaccustomed to this side of her, half-disheveled, no tight braid, no ponytail with wisps she slicked back. And he remembered how it felt to run his fingers through her hair, to touch her cheek, to kiss her forehead and have her quiver against him, her body so close to his, the warmth of her breath. He wished he could purge those thoughts, every single one of those memories, and though Noranti’s drugs helped, they only lasted so long, and Aeryn lasted far longer. Had there been a way to move on, he would’ve found it by now. Or maybe he hadn’t done anything drastic enough, and he should tell her to not come to Christmas with his family, make head back to Moya and stay there, and force her to accept that she may never see him again, not for her sake but for his. But he thought about a life haunted by her and stared at her across the table, tipping back her mug, sighing in pleasure at the taste, and he wanted instead to slip in alongside her and wrap his arm around her, varsity jacket, poodle skirt, class ring, one milkshake for two smitten teenagers. He wasn’t sure he could find a way to not love her.</p><p>“Do your people normally eat this late?”</p><p>He shrugged, gave, “If you’re young and stupid, yeah.”</p><p>“So, why are we here?”</p><p>Because there wasn’t anywhere better to go. Because he couldn’t think of somewhere better, at least. And he was starting to feel crazy in the way everyone at IASA assumed he already was. And he wanted to see her. He missed her. He missed her so much that sitting across from her in a diner almost felt more painful than lying in bed far away from her and staring at the cracks in his ceiling had. And Aeryn across from him at a diner, Aeryn hovering over a steaming mug of coffee, her face cast in the light of the neon sides hanging in the window they sat next to, tinny Christmas music playing on the jukebox, calls about orders in the kitchen, he looked at her but had to immediately look away. Though he didn't want to say so, they were here now because he wanted to take her on a date.</p><p>Going into his pocket, he fished out his wallet, emptied change onto their table, then nodded toward the jukebox.</p><p>“Want to pick a song?” he asked, flicking a quarter her way. </p><p>When she pressed the button to switch through CDs, she flinched, and she had to squint in order to read the titles. Sometimes, she knew what the song was about - “Lovely Day” - but other times, she didn’t - “Rasputin” - and she settled on “Crimson and Clover” and pressed the button hard enough for her nail to turn white. Standing next to her, with black-and-white tiles beneath their feet and cracking vinyl booths next to the wide windows, he saw the two of them in a slow-shutter blur, a movie from the eighties, and he would bring his palm to the small of her back, and she was wearing something that suited her instead of Olivia’s jeans, and he could pull her close and kiss her, and the lights dimmed, and they were the only two people in the world. But the lights in the diner stayed on at all hours, and she listened to the song as if surveying for a threat, and his palm hovered near the small of her back before he dropped his hand to his side, not sure what else to do. At times, he had seen her as a kind of dream, the self-sacrifice, her lips against his while they assumed they were dying, but now, they weren’t hitting their marks, no cues to be found. He longed for a director. He longed for direction at all.</p><p>She looked different in these clothes, just a tee shirt and pants but different clothes nonetheless. Though other times he’d seen her in borrowed Keds, she’d snuck her boots beneath the flares of Livvy’s jeans this time, not wanting to give up comfort. Before she got out of bed, she asked if he would give her a moment to change, and he said yeah, sure, but as he shut the door behind himself, he watched her climb out of bed, and she was wearing that green shirt of his. At some point, she’d been in his quarters, had taken his clothes, and he hadn’t even noticed.</p><p>Though she could read most of the menu, she didn’t know what each thing was. French toast? He told her, thick slices of bread, sweet and covered in cinnamon, and he thought there was some planet where they'd found something like cinnamon but couldn’t remember which one. And she didn’t understand how eggs could be done up in so many ways. More coffee? Yes, please, and Aeryn shook the creamers again before pouring them into her cup, and maybe they weren’t even hungry. Maybe he hoped the waitress would take her time and let the two of them sit here all night talking about Hollandaise sauce and thinly sliced ham, and then, they would return to the ridiculous house in the morning, and she would be asleep in his passenger’s seat, and he would have to wake her up. Together, they looked so normal, just two people out at three in the morning, going to a diner because nowhere else was open, and across from him at the table, she shone in the neon light, colors reflecting off of her hair, and she sipped her coffee again, looking up at him over the mug, Kubrick stare, and he couldn’t get over her. He was willing to do all the mental gymnastics required to forgive her. If he stared at her long enough, he might even forget why he was mad.</p><p>She set her mug down, her right hand on the handle, her left resting on the table. Against his better judgment, he reached for her, his right hand coming over her left, and their thumbs curled around each other, and she stared down at their joined hands, brow furrowed as if she were still asleep. His mind felt so empty, and his body felt weightless, and maybe they should order one of each thing, then charge it all to the credit card the IASA executives had given Aeryn. She ought to have the true Earth experience, complete with buttermilk pancakes and a ham and cheese omelet. She ought to at least try a milkshake.</p><p>“Ready to order?” the waitress asked as she sidled up to their table, and quickly, Aeryn retracted her hand, a blush coming to her cheeks. </p><p>“Yes,” John gave. Laminated menu. The same thing every diner on this planet offered. He hadn’t made a decision, but there wasn’t much of a decision to make.</p><p>Aeryn wanted French toast and more coffee, please. Her mug sat empty, waiting to be filled; his own had gone cold. And he thought about eggs over easy and buttered toast, but no, Aeryn didn’t know what pecans were, and they were close to Christmas anyway. A slice of pecan pie to share, and a slice of pumpkin too, and an omelet, and a half-stack of pancakes as well. They would pay the upcharge for real maple syrup. And a milkshake? Yes, a milkshake, malted chocolate, he wanted Aeryn to share his cravings, and two straws, please, if that was alright. Anything else? He squinted down at the menu - he needed to get his eyes checked - and added on a side of hash browns and another of bacon, and extra syrup too. While the waitress wrote diligently, Aeryn stared down at her lap, looking embarrassed, and maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’d woken her up and ruined her evening and put a bigger rift between them, but in a way, he didn’t care. Let her be done with him. Let her hate him, even. Then, he could finally get over her.</p><p>“You’re hungry,” she said, giving him an awkward smile as their waitress walked away.</p><p>He tried to shrug it off, but he knew she could see through him.</p><p>“Wanted to make sure you got a taste of everything,” he said.</p><p>“I’ve had a lot already,” she gave, and the waitress returned with the coffee pot, and Aeryn thanked her for the refill. “Rygel can’t get enough.”</p><p>“Have you found anything you like?”</p><p>“Sandwiches,” she said. “They’re easy, and practical too. You can keep them in your pocket.”</p><p>He laughed, and when he saw her face fall, he shook his head, not wanting her to think he was making fun.</p><p>“I was expecting something like rum or candy,” he said.</p><p>And the unspoken words hung between them: she couldn’t drink rum. And after all of the screenings she had gone through, he knew that somewhere, somehow, her pregnancy had evaded detection, and he had spent a long time, longer than he wanted to admit, thinking about what that meant. Was she not pregnant, then? But she wouldn’t lie to him, not in that way. Aeryn Sun might be many awful things, but she wasn’t purposefully cruel. At first, he hadn’t believed her claim of stasis, and had Zhaan still been alive, he would’ve asked for confirmation, but instead, he had let his mind run amuck with possibilities. And he wanted to ask - and when she looked at him, he sensed that part of her, though only a quiet part, wanted him to ask - but he couldn’t, not here, not now. Forgetting her was the cowardly option, but it was the less painful one too. He wished Noranti’s drugs had been stronger.</p><p>But for now, he wouldn’t say anything. Either tonight would be important to both of them, or tonight would be his last night of loving Aeryn Sun. And he could love her in this liminal space, this in-between where neither of them belonged. He wondered if she could love him here too.</p>
<hr/><p>He thought he should hold her hand. With the streets around them so dark, save for Christmas lights, he wanted to tether her to him. What if she wandered off? But she wouldn’t wander. No, he remembered what his mother used to say about spiders, they’re more scared of you than you are of them, and Aeryn stayed a pace back, looking at the storefronts lined with lights, closed shops with televisions in the windows, clothing boutiques, a laundromat. At this point in the night, the Cocoa Beach Pier might be empty, or maybe it wouldn’t be, but he wanted to show her the ocean, the real ocean. The real ocean? If he wanted to show her beaches, they ought to catch a flight to the Bahamas, but he couldn’t get her a passport. A passport. He almost laughed at the thought, <em>Officer</em> written as the first name and <em>Erinsun</em> written as the last. He wondered if he would ever figure out her birthday. He wondered if she even knew her own.</p><p>Empty, dark streets, and the little flickers or lights, and inflatable Santa and Rudolph out front, lit up and baying in the breeze, merry Christmas to all, and every store had holiday deals, and he wondered if he should give her something. Sometimes, they sat in his family’s living room, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, and he felt those familiar butterflies, or not even butterflies anymore, something else, a kind of comfort. Aeryn, right here, right next to him, and real, not gone anymore. He had missed her so much. When he first saw her back on Moya, he’d felt as if he’d had the air knocked out of him, and he wanted to hold her, clutch her to his chest and tell her that everything would be alright. Fuck fate. He didn’t want to leave anything else up to fate. No, he wanted to hold her shoulders and shake her and tell her that she was it for him, there wasn’t anyone else, and he deserved better from her. He at least deserved the truth. </p><p>The streetlamps had wreaths hung beneath their lights. She paused for a moment and stared up.</p><p>“Why do they hang those?” she asked. “Those...circles.”</p><p>“Wreaths.”</p><p>“<em>Wreaths,</em>“ she pronounced, then quietly repeated the word to herself. <em>Wreaths. Wreaths. Wreaths.</em></p><p>“They’re a Christmas decoration,” he said. “Fir branches. Around Christmas, everything is made of fir branches.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Probably something to do with the trees.”</p><p>“No, why circles?”</p><p>“Oh.” He really didn’t know why. “I'm not sure.”</p><p>She nodded, seemingly content with that answer, then walked a pace ahead of him, the two of them heading for the pier. Cocoa Beach Pier, the ultimate tourist destination, and though he avoided it like the plague, Aeryn wasn’t from here, so they might as well go there. And they still had two hours left on their parking. Were there bars on the pier? For now, the streets remained empty, and he wondered how they would feel surrounded by others, people on vacation, maybe people who would recognize them, but then again, they were just two people. If they held hands, they might even pass as a couple. And others might point them out - <em>look, it’s the man from TV!</em> - but in the half-light of a tourist bar, no one would <em>really</em> know it was them, and why would a now-famous astronaut and an alien woman be on the pier at three in the morning? Still, the thought of recognition made him pause. Though they could walk to the end of the pier and look out, maybe that was a bad idea, so instead, he led her toward the beach alongside the pier, a quieter place. They could sit there for a while and look at the stars. Ever since they touched down on Earth, he’d wanted to teach her the names of the stars.</p><p>At this hour, the beach was empty. He found a dry spot in the sand and sat down, Aeryn following suit. </p><p>“I like the ocean,” she said, leaning back on her palms, stretching her neck. “Sometimes, I’ll wake up early and look out my window, and you can see boats coming in. It’s peaceful. Not much here is that peaceful.”</p><p>He couldn’t help wondering what her definition of <em>peace</em> was.</p><p>“I like it too,” he said, not knowing what else to say.</p><p>Though the pier cast enough light to make the stars look dim, he could still find the obvious constellations, the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt, even the Seven Sisters if he squinted. Not the best place to look at stars, but nowhere near Orlando ever would be. Maybe he should take her to Maine, up north where the light pollution didn’t come through, and he could show her his night sky, the two of them together on the beach there, a beach so unlike this one that the word <em>beach</em> hardly seemed to fit. </p><p>“I’m confused, John,” she said, her voice quiet, as if she thought she was interrupting.</p><p>He looked at her, but she kept her gaze down, didn’t meet his eyes.</p><p>“About what?” he asked.</p><p>“About tonight,” she said. “About why you woke me up.”</p><p>And he didn’t want to tell her why, for he didn’t have an answer, at least not a good one. No, he’d snuck into the house for drugs, then had wanted to see her instead, then had wanted to wake her up. Had he not seen the diner near a highway exit, they wouldn’t have gone there, and had he not paid for parking, he wouldn’t have walked her to the pier. He woke her up because he wanted to see her. He wasn’t sure he could give any other answer.</p><p>“There’s been a lot of noise around us,” he gave, trying to evade the question. “I thought it would be nice to find some quiet.”</p><p>But music played on the pier, and people talked and laughed, and behind them, cars passed on the road, stoplights changing color, engines firing. He wasn’t sure privacy existed on this planet. And if he could corner her in her quarters on Moya, he would, but they always were interrupted, and she would probably run anyway. At least here she wouldn’t know where to run.</p><p>“You won’t tell me what you want,” she said. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to do anything, Aeryn,” he said, and maybe he should’ve taken her to a bar instead, or just taken her home. He got his date. He could put an end to this so easily. She didn’t even understand paid parking; she wouldn’t care if he left two hours on the meter. They could’ve gone home. </p><p>“But you <em>do,</em>“ she insisted, “and you won’t let me in, but you won’t let me go either. If there’s nothing I can do, John, then just tell me. Tell me, and let me go.”</p><p>But hearing her say those words, <em>let me go,</em> made his heart pound, his shoulders hurt, a sensation like embarrassment. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t think he could let her go.</p><p>“I need you to tell me the truth this time,” he said, and she shook her head incredulously.</p><p>“I’ve told you the truth all along,” she said, and she turned analytical the way she always did when she wanted to win an argument. “Peacekeepers born on command carriers-“</p><p>“Yes, and you’re one of those <em>special few,</em> and that’s why the baby might not be mine, and for no other reason,” he said, nodding quickly. “Of course. And I’ll never catch you in the lie because I’m primitive.”</p><p>She looked down at her lap, her hands folded there. He wished she would look at him.</p><p>“You won’t believe anything I say,” she gave, sounding defeated. “I don’t know what else I can do.”</p><p>“Just tell me the truth, Aeryn,” he said. “And get it over with.”</p><p>“I haven’t had it tested,” she said. “There’s still a chance that it’s not yours.”</p><p>“But do you think it’s mine?”</p><p>“I won’t know-“</p><p>“I didn’t ask if you know. I asked if you <em>think</em> it’s mine.”</p><p>She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and he wondered if she might stand up and walk away. He wondered if he might need to go searching for her. And, really, he wouldn’t mind searching, would comfortably walk these streets and call her name, looking crazy, looking deranged, and when he finally found her, she would furrow her brow and ask why he was causing a puss, and he would tell her no, it’s <em>fuss,</em> he was causing a <em>fuss.</em></p><p>“I want it to be,” she said, the crack in her voice betraying her dark exterior. </p><p>When she wiped her eyes, he wondered if sand on her hands had scratched her face, and he dug his hands intp the beach, trying to calm himself down, his mind empty in the way it always got when he had too much to think about. He couldn’t find words. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find words. No, he couldn’t say something that would adequately describe what he felt. What was he feeling? He couldn’t tell, couldn’t figure out what any of this meant, and she covered her face with her hands, the small sobs making her body shake.</p><p>“This hurts,” she said, sounding so small. </p><p>It did hurt. He hadn’t expected this to hurt.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he told her, for everything needed to be okay. He wouldn’t let himself see another outcome.</p><p>“I don’t know how to be a mother,” she said, and with that, he couldn’t hold himself back. No, not anymore. He didn’t care if loving her made him a weak person. He didn’t care if his conviction waned when he got emotional. No, he needed to reach for her, needed to take her in his arms and hold her, and she gripped his shirt, kept him close, hiding her face against his shoulder. </p><p>Maybe she’d comforted herself by swearing this child wasn’t his, for then, she wouldn’t want to be a mother at all, and though she’d hurt him with her half-truths, he at least could understand why. When he looked at her, he didn’t see a fearful person, and seeing her now, her back arched with restraint, trying to keep her emotions at bay but failing, he wished he hadn’t said anything. He’d been right; he’d felt that he could trust her with his life but not with his heart, but he could see the emotional devastation of that statement in her now. Vaguely, he remembered her saying something, that he’d taught her that she had a heart at all, and maybe that was an overstatement, or maybe she’d been saying that to D’Argo, Chiana, Zhaan, and Rygel too, but he wondered what she’d done after he’d told her that he couldn’t trust her. Though he’d meant the statement, he wished for both of their sakes that he hadn’t.</p><p>“No one does,” he said, rubbing her back, closing his eyes. “Nobody ever does.”</p><p>“Then how do they do it?” she asked, and he shook his head.</p><p>“If I knew the answer, I’d tell you,” he said. “But we can figure it out together.”</p><p>She nodded against him, taking a deep breath. </p><p>“I’d like that,” she said, with more conviction than he expected to hear. </p><p>He brought one of his hands to her head, carding his fingers through her hair. Though he wished she would let out every last feeling, he knew she wouldn’t, and he hated crying too, so he couldn’t blame her. And he wondered what people on the pier would think of them, looking as if they were making out on the beach, but no, she was crying, what was she crying about? But when he opened his eyes and looked up, he didn’t find anyone watching. He couldn’t remember the last time no one watched them.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, trying to apologize, and she laughed against him.</p><p>“It’s alright,” she gave, voice raspy like when they woke up together, two bodies in his bed, and they wouldn't bother finding breakfast for another arn, and she looked so beautiful. </p><p>Pulling away from him, she met his gaze, and he wanted to kiss her. It suddenly felt so important that he kiss her, so he kissed her, pulling her close to him, and he could taste tears on her lips, and he wondered if she wanted this only until she kissed him back, the force of her body pushing him away at first, but he met her where she was, and she wanted him. Yes, she wanted him. She’d been saying that all along, just in ways he hadn’t understood. And he understood now. He really thought he understood.</p><p>When he broke the kiss, their foreheads touched, and she took a moment to catch her breath. He wondered if she felt any different. He did, but only in small ways, ones he couldn’t describe, ones he thought he would understand in a year now, when he had greater perspective.</p><p>“I brought you out here to look at the stars,” he said, cheeks warm with embarrassment. Her hair smelled like coconut. Little sobs still wracked her chest.</p><p>She nodded, said, “Okay.”</p><p>“Do you want to look at the stars?”</p><p>“Yes, I do.”</p><p>So he brought her between his legs, letting her rest her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her, and he looked up at the sky, tried to find the important ones. Taking her hand in his, he made them both point to one constellation. The Big Dipper, made up of the stars in Ursa Major. Did she know what a dipper was? Sometimes, that constellation was called the Plough, and it looked a bit like a spoon, and next to it was the Little Dipper. <em>Why does it have two names?</em> she asked, and he told her that Ursa Major was a much bigger constellation, one resembling a bear, and she asked what a bear was. A bear, big fella, fluffy and lives in the woods, they had a reputation for being nice and cuddly but in actuality were terrifying. Did they talk? No, they didn’t talk, but one American president had a bear toy named after him, and she furrowed her brow at that. A bear toy. Teddy bears, after Theodore Roosevelt, and back in junior high, he’d known which president Roosevelt had been in the line of succession. But the president part hadn’t confused her; her language didn’t have a word for <em>toy.</em></p><p>Were the toys for children or adults? Children, mostly, but adults kept theirs around as a kind of treasure. And children used toys to play, sometimes making up stories, sometimes just cuddling, and toys were varied as could be, sometimes a model of a vehicle, sometimes a soft stuffed animal, sometimes a game. Though he could tell that she didn’t quite understand the purpose, he kept talking about teddy bears, and they were soft, good for hugging, just about the size of a baby. And she said that maybe they should bring one back, just in case. Not a real bear, just a toy one. And why was the constellation named after a bear? Because it looked like one, he said, and she shook her head. That wasn’t the point of naming stars. And, well, each individual star had a name, but together, they made up Ursa Major, and throughout history, humans had described that constellation as a bear. </p><p>“Why?” she asked, and he didn’t know how to simplify this further.</p><p>“It looks like a bear,” he repeated.</p><p>“Are those stars in the same area?”</p><p>He tried to think back to his college days, then gave, “I don’t know.”</p><p>“You don’t know,” she deadpanned.</p><p>“I can’t remember, Aeryn,” he said. “I learned all of this a long time ago.”</p><p>“Do you use those stars for navigation?”</p><p>“There’s one star that seafarers use to find their way north.”</p><p>“But not those stars specifically.”</p><p>“Not those, I don’t think.”</p><p>“Then why group them?”</p><p>“Because they look like a bear, Aeryn,” he gave. “It’s simple.”</p><p>“But that’s not a good reason,” she said. “That serves no purpose.”</p><p>Looking up at the stars, he laughed humorlessly. Maybe she was right.</p><p>“It gave us something to talk about,” he said.</p><p>And then, the Seven Sisters, a cluster located inside of Taurus the Bull, a constellation associated with astrology, a topic he never wanted Aeryn to know about. On a clear night, you could see each one of those seven stars, but tonight, they were just a smudge in the sky, and he trailed their joined hands in that direction. Those were also called the Pleiades, and he sounded that word out with her,<em> plei-a-des,</em> and if he remembered correctly, this constellation had a vast, deep history, the oldest stories of this planet being about those stars. Why those stars in particular? She didn’t understand calling them sisters, or why those sisters were inside of a bull, and he told her that maybe they weren’t meant to understand, and she didn’t find that poetic at all. <em>Maybe we can take some time with an IASA telescope,</em> he said, his voice almost a whisper, his lips brushing against her ear, <em>and we can see them more clearly.</em> And she nodded, <em>I would like that,</em> their joined hands resting in her lap. He would like that too.</p><p>She felt heavy in his arms, a tired kind of heavy. This close to the space center, there were plenty of resorts.</p><p>“Want to get a hotel room?” he asked.</p><p>Turning to look at him, she met his eyes for a moment, then nodded.</p>
<hr/><p>She wanted to use the keycard. At first, she stuck it in too fast, so he had to lead her, put it in nice and slow, wait for the green light, and then, you can pull it out, and she pushed the door open with fervor, and he came forward to meet her, his palms bracketing her hips, her hands on his face, and as they kissed, the keycard fell gracelessly to the floor, and they didn’t care. He felt drawn to her like a magnet, something inevitable between them, and he wasn’t in control, not even a little bit, and this place smelled of chlorine and bleached towels, and he hadn’t imagined Aeryn in a place like this. Someplace so American, with its rickety coffee-maker on a table in the corner - they bumped against that table, her palm bracing atop the mini fridge - and an air conditioner in the corner, one that always kept the room too cold, and two sets of curtains, and instructions on the desk for connecting to the wired internet. Had there been a luxury resort, he would’ve taken her there, but they’d have to go to Orlando for something like that, and Aeryn wouldn’t know the difference anyway. But Aeryn in a place with marble floors, and room service, they could lie and say they were newlyweds, and there would be champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries brought up to their room, and he would tell her that he needed to carry her over the threshold, Earth custom, in order to keep up the charade. And the bathtub in their room, shaped like a heart for posterity, would have plenty of space for two bodies, and she would try to bathe until he told her that that wasn’t really this vessel’s purpose. </p><p>But in a hundred-dollar hotel room on the cape, in a place where families stayed before touring the space center, close to tourist attractions and the worst parts of Florida, Aeryn pulled away from him, and through their long window, he could see the ocean, and she had never looked more beautiful.</p><p>“There’s something I want to do,” she said, her breath warm against his skin, her body so close to his. </p><p>“Name it,” he said, pulling her to him, kissing her neck. “Say anything.”</p><p>“I want to go down to the pool.”</p><p>And he laughed because of course she did. And he didn’t want to go down to the pool at all. No, he had other ideas, so many other ideas, but he brushed her hair behind her ears and nodded. They could go to the pool. When they checked in - he'd given Aeryn his sunglasses to wear, but the clerk’s eyes had gone wide anyway - they were told about the pool, open twenty-four hours, and Aeryn looked in that direction. A tub was one thing, but a swimming pool? And one in a hotel, no less. An elevator for two people, all the lights were still on even though they were the only ones awake, and at the pool area, she pulled off her boots and left them by the plastic lounge chairs, racks of bleached towels hanging around the room. The pool had shallow and deep ends, and a jacuzzi at the edge of the room, and steam hung in the air, warm and humid. She lifted her tee shirt over her head, and he hadn’t seen that bra before, olive-colored with lace at the edges, real cups, as impractical and un-Aeryn as could be; thumbing the button of her jeans, she leaned into the zipper, then let the pants pool at her feet, pointing her toes while stepping out of them. As she waded down the ladder into the pool, he watched the ends of her long hair grow wet, and then, she dipped beneath the surface, and his clothes were still on.</p><p>He needed to follow her. He felt like a child, her absence from sight making him think she’d vanished from existence. Pulling off his shirt, he left his clothes in a pile next to hers, and he wouldn’t bother with the ladder. No, he wanted to dive right in, his old swim team days returning, toes at the edge of the pool, seeking her out. The rush of water around his ears, and he opened his eyes beneath the surface, and she exhaled at the other end of the pool, bubbles coming from her nose, her hair suspended as if in midair, and astronauts trained in pools before going to space. Though the weightlessness felt similar, at least this time his legs could provide thrust, and he swam to her, making the gentlest of currents around them. He wondered how long she could hold her breath. He wondered how long he could hold his own. And he twisted his body to match hers, a caduceus, two snakes wrapped around a herald’s wand, inextricably tied, the symbol of healing. Reaching out, he touched her side, taut muscles beneath his thumb, and she pushed toward him, toes pointing parallel to the pool tiles, her hair billowing behind her as her lips came to his, two closed mouths in this warm, silent space. They weren’t on Earth anymore, were they? No, they were somewhere else, another galaxy, and all around them were stars, so many stars that he could see each of her eyelashes in the light. Maybe, if they stayed here long enough, they would have a chance to name each star.</p><p>She brought her hands to his face, and when she closed her eyes, he closed his too. Stars still shone in the sky even when no one was looking. He felt the stillness of her chest and decided to stay here until she breathed again.</p>
<hr/><p>By the time he finished lathering her hair, they’d run out of shampoo from the little hotel bottle. He didn’t know if they had conditioner in other galaxies, had always just taken what Zhaan and then Jool and now Sikozu left out for everyone. With her hair slicked over her shoulder, she looked so pale, so gentle, her neck bare, and he couldn’t resist kissing her there, warm water flowing from his face to her jaw. He hated showers like this one, tub at the bottom, a spout in one corner, and they stepped on each other’s toes, and if he pushed too hard, he would run her right into the faucet. And because there were lights in the shower, bulbs just above their heads, he saw her in painful brightness, a brightness they rarely had on Moya. Against all odds, Aeryn Sun had laughter lines. </p><p>Though she managed to wet every towel other than the one he'd taken for himself, he still didn’t want to explain hairdryers to her, so he sat down behind her on the bed while the TV played something stupid, something late night, four in the morning with only the two of them awake. Back in the day, he had had to braid Livvy’s hair before her swim meets, two French braids to shove under a cap, and every season, their mother asked why Livvy didn’t just cut it, but his sister got so attached to her long hair, would cry before trims. If he closed his eyes, he could tap into the muscle memory, and in front of him, she sounded out the words she saw, <em>doorbuster sale,</em> their matching hotel robes making a joke of them. Beyond their window, the pier was still lit, planes coming to land in Orlando, flashes in the sky, and she kept the air conditioning at 68 because Florida was no place for Sebaceans. <em>One day only,</em> she said, but not to him. <em>Blockbuster. Oh...or...oh-re-oh.</em></p><p>When he finished her braids, he tugged on both ends to tell her so. She held the remote like a beacon, changing to the next channel, home shopping network, statement necklaces and fluorescent lights. No, not for her, she switched to the news, and he thought of her in the passenger’s seat of his car, pulling into the hotel’s parking lot, and she had total control over the radio, flipping from public broadcasting to a Christian station and then settling on one song, sitting back in the passenger’s seat as he looked for a place to park. She insisted on keeping her window down.<em> Hurry, boy, she’s waiting there for you,</em> and he parked within view of the ocean, and this time, she’d figured out the seatbelt, unbuckled it herself. And they didn’t have luggage, were checking in without a reservation during the small hours of the morning, and the generic lobby brimmed with plastic fir branches and twinkle lights, continental breakfast tables covered in red tablecloths, a tall tree decorated with gold ornaments and surrounded by a train set put up in the center of the room. Gaudy, yes, but while he asked for a room, one king-sized bed, and they needed toiletries if that was alright, Aeryn stared at the tree, taller than the one in his father’s home but lifeless in comparison. Oh, and two keycards, please. He handed one to Aeryn, and she stared down at the card, then gave him a look that made him wonder if she thought he was joking.</p><p>They were given two film-wrapped toothbrushes, each with a packet of toothpaste he otherwise would’ve confused with ketchup, and because he had wicked coffee breath, he excused himself while she stared at the television. And these toothbrushes always fell apart as he used them, and after using the dentics for years, he scrunched up his face. Had toothpaste always tasted this bad? He spat out plastic bristles, then rolled up the packet, squeezing out the dregs. He wondered if Aeryn knew how to brush her teeth. He wondered how it would feel to live through a day in her old life. Sometimes, he caught glimpses of her old days when they did something normal together, like cleaning dishes or washing clothes, and she would do something that made him look on with concern, and their eyes would meet, and she would swallow uncomfortably as she realized that no, that wasn’t normal. No, she hadn’t been raised the way someone like her should’ve been raised. And he thought of her mother, of how Aeryn had told him in the small hours of the morning years ago that she had been born of love, how much that had meant to her, and now, her mother was dead, and she didn’t know what to do about love. He didn’t either, but he wondered if she ever imagined a different life, one with two parents who had wanted her, one without scars. He wondered if she had changed the faces in that fantasy, put herself in her mother’s place and him in her father’s, and their child would have a life of love this time. Didn’t every parent want their child to grow up in a better world? Rinsing his mouth, he tried to get out the last of the bristles. He wondered if she'd thought about their child as much as he had.</p><p>When he came back into the bedroom, he found her on the right side of the bed, the covers pulled back, her braids trailing behind her on the pillow. Though he went to say something, he stopped short as he saw that her eyes were closed, her hands curled in front of her face. The TV was off, and she was out cold.</p><p>“Guess caffeine doesn’t affect you, huh,” he said softly, hoping not to wake her.</p><p>They didn’t have anything else to wear, so she’d gone to bed in the bathrobe. Turning off the lights, pulling back the covers on the other side of the bed, he thought he might as well match. And they’d timed this horribly, or maybe he should’ve had a plan, but instead, they were the country’s most wanted fugitives, and the hotel staff would likely send security footage to the government, the famous astronaut from TV and the lady alien who looked like everyone else checking in together. At least they hadn’t been all over each other in the lobby. At least they’d waited until the elevator, and then, he slipped his hand toward hers, and she brought her fingers through his, and they looked at each other as the elevator came to a stop. The whole place smelled like chlorine, and the lights in the hallways stayed on at all hours, and he led her to their room, then let her put in her keycard. And they only kissed when they were really, truly alone.</p><p>But the rumors would spread. Enough rumors had already spread. He was starting to remember what he didn’t like about this planet. On the surface, he saw that people were inherently good, that there was wonder here and that beauty came in so many forms, but when he heard the news talk about Aeryn, and listened to what awful men had said about her appearance, he started to remember the bad parts. He remembered the greed, the jealousy, the agonizing comparisons and the competition and Billy Joel singing that only the good die young. But weren’t all planets like this one? No matter where he went, he saw greed and jealousy, and he witnessed awful, immoral actions being taken by those in power, but for some reason, he associated his time away from here with goodness. Where had that goodness come from? Zhaan, he remembered her quintessential goodness, and being on Moya with everyone else, and they were all having dinner and telling stories, and the laughter flowed like champagne at a wedding, and he started to forget his problems, his ambitions, his own needs. And at the center of it all was Aeryn, and she had done horrible things, so why did she give him hope? <em>Because she wants to be more than that,</em> he told himself. <em>Because she’s afraid but pushes forward anyway.</em></p><p>“I love you, Aeryn,” he said absentmindedly, his tone quiet. </p><p>Come dawn, they would be at the center of a manhunt, and maybe a SWAT team would bust down the door to their hotel room and find them together in bed, both wearing hotel robes and looking exhausted. He should’ve crafted a plan, but then again, she always hated his plans. And maybe they had both known the consequences when he’d woken her, but they’d left the house together anyway, sneaking past the security detail and quietly climbing into his car, her window rolling down once they’d gotten past the street sign, the radio coming on shortly thereafter. As he merged onto the highway, she had “Last Christmas” on, and she leaned her forearms over top of the open car window, then stuck her head out as if she were a dog, her hair whipping behind her in the wind, her seatbelt stretching far enough to lock her in. With the sea to one side of them, the lights of the city to the other, he glanced over at her and saw her in a kind of slow motion, the present feeling like a memory. He hadn’t had a destination in mind. Maybe that had been a mistake, or maybe they had desperately needed to be directionless. And the soft sounds of her breath made his toes curl, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept next to her, and he would never flip a coin again, not ever, not even about a minor decision, like whether to get pizza or hot wings, and maybe they would have a few graceful moments in the morning, and she would curl up with him before the SWAT team came, and by the time their door was broken down, she would be in his arms, and his lips would be on her neck, and they would be a renaissance painting of ecstasy, and the rumors would be too shocking to be believed. And they would both be alright in the end.</p><p>Next to him, she shifted in bed, not awake but not fully asleep either, and she turned toward him, her head at the edge of her pillow, the mattress dipping beneath her. Though they weren’t touching, she was so close that he felt as if they were, and he’d been the one to teach her what a <em>goodnight kiss</em> was. He’d been the first man she’d slept alongside, just slept. And though he’d loved others before her, he knew that, in a way, there had only ever been her, and that he’d known she would be special from the first time he saw her. He didn’t believe in soulmates, he didn’t believe in twin flames or <em>meant to be,</em> but he believed in her, and he knew that he would never be able to forget her, and that he would always reach for her even if he stayed on Earth, even if she was galaxies away. He couldn’t let her go, and didn’t want to let her go either. </p><p>Turning onto his side, he matched her position, their bodies canted toward each other. When she woke in the morning, he would be the first thing she saw. He thought she might like that.</p><p>He closed his eyes, and when flashes of her came into his mind, he let the images stay.</p>
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